Daylight
by KekahJ
Summary: We knew from the beginning that this day would come, but somehow we've managed to push it from our minds and live completely in the moment. But with her, living in the moment seems exactly perfect.


Daylight. For most people it means a new beginning, the start of a new day. But for me it means the end. The end of my happiness, and what feels like the end of my life.

I silently curse the ever-lightening sky that's stubbornly pushing its way through the curtains as I glance down at her sleeping form. Every morning is torture, but this morning is particularly awful. Today I'm leaving. The season is over, and my work here is done. I have no reason to linger, save for her: the most important reason I've ever had. But it isn't enough. I've hung around as long as I can. I'm all out of excuses.

She sighs in her sleep, her bare shoulders rising and falling gently, and I feel actual physical pain at the thought of being separated from her. I sigh and sink back down into the pillow, scrubbing a hand over my face.

We knew from the beginning that this day would come, but somehow we've managed to push it from our minds and live completely in the moment. But with her, living in the moment seems exactly perfect.

I think back to the first time I saw her. It was my first day, and her father was giving all the new seasonal employees a tour of his ranch. She strode confidently out of the house and into the blinding sunlight, and I'd stood there squinting at her like a blind man seeing the sun for the first time. I'll never forget how she looked that day. A well-worn straw hat on her head, and faded denim cut-offs cut so short the pockets hung out the bottoms.

"This is my daughter," Her dad said to us, and looking back on it, I swear he'd given me a warning glance. Had he known what would happen between us even way back then?

She'd stepped forward and one by one shaken each man's hand. When my turn came, she gripped my hand, her gaze as steady as her handshake. Then her lips curved into a coy little smile. I'd been dazzled, and barely able to focus for the rest of the tour. And that's how it's been from the beginning. She's an immovable force and I'm powerless to resist her. Not that I ever tried very hard. From the first time she pulled me behind the barn, eyes darting carefully around as she tugged my shirt up over my head, I was a goner.

I sigh and agonize about whether to wake her, vacillating between letting her get the sleep I know she needs, and selfishly wanting to soak up every moment I have left with her. The sun creeps higher in the sky, and the little chinks of daylight that stubbornly push their way through the heavy curtains move up the wall and across the bed, persistently reminding me my time is almost done.

Soon, the decision will be made for me. She'll have to wake like she does every morning and steal across the yard and back through her window into the bedroom she vacates to be with me almost every night. Some mornings, on the days when it's my turn to do early morning rounds, I leave before she does. Those mornings are almost as hard as this day. Except every other morning I've left her with the knowledge that I only have to get through a few agonizing hours before I'll see her again.

She stirs in her sleep, rolling toward me, moving closer, settling under the crook of my shoulder where she fits perfectly. I sigh and kiss her forehead. My selfishness wins out, and I kiss her again, hoping to wake her. She's stretching in my arms, and I feel almost intoxicated by her very nearness.

"Morning." Her voice is sleep laden and a little rough, but I imagine I hear something more in her tone, as if she's also feeling the weight of this morning.

"Good morning. Did I wake you?" I ask, shamelessly feigning innocence.

"It's okay. I need to get up."

"I know."

She sits upright, and by her expression, I know she hears the extra meaning behind my words. I can't hide the infinite sadness I feel.

She sighs, and I immediately feel guilty.

I sit up beside her, and try to playfully nudge her with my shoulder, attempting to lighten the mood. I don't want our last hours, maybe even minutes, spent in brooding silence or unresolved tension. "Come on. You better get out of here before your old man wonders where you are." The sun is alarmingly high in the sky now, and I know it won't be long before he's awake.

She smiles and places her palm on my cheek. I think for a moment she's going to speak, but instead, she rises and begins to gather her clothing that's strewn across my floor. All too soon, she's dressed, pulling her long hair up into a quick, messy ponytail.

"I'll try to find you later today. What time…" She trails off, but I know the words she doesn't want to say.

"I'm not sure yet. It depends on how quickly the other guys finish up the last of their work." I hate being at someone else's mercy, but maybe it'll give me some extra time with her today before… I don't even want to think about it.

She nods and she's almost to the window when she suddenly turns back. For a minute I'm confused, wondering what's keeping her, but then she's in my arms. I laugh as I wind my arms around her waist. Her lips find mine, and I reach up and pull her hair out of its ponytail. I love the feel of it cascading down my arms as I slide my hands up and down her back.

I want to keep her forever. But I know I can't. The real world is waiting. As if she can read my mind, she pushes against my shoulders. Without another word, she slips through the window, and I hear the quiet creak of the ivy-covered trellis she uses to climb down to ground-level again. I know that if I go to the window now, I'll be able to catch a glimpse of her retreating form, hair gleaming in the early morning sunlight as she crosses the expanse of yard that separates me from her and where she belongs. If only it was just a patch of well-manicured green grass that separated us. Maybe I wouldn't feel like my whole world is about to shift on its axis.

But somehow I know that I don't want what could possibly be my last memory of her to be her running away from me. I push the thought aside as I stand and move into the bathroom, turning on the shower. I'll see her again today. I'll make sure of it. I sigh as I realize that she left the window open. The cool, crisp air that makes the curtains dance is a sad reminder that the season is over, and winter is just around the corner.

The other ranch hands are already seated around the scrubbed wooden table in the long, narrow ranch kitchen when I get there. A couple of them lift their heads in acknowledgement of my arrival, but more of them just continue eating. They eat with their heads ducked low to their bowls, scooping the colorless and nearly tasteless oatmeal as if it's the greatest meal they've ever had.

My stomach is too unsettled to eat, but I know from experience that I need fuel to get me through the day. I burn too many calories in a day's work not to load up as much as possible each morning. I grab a bowl from the sideboard and ladle a large portion of oatmeal into my bowl. It makes an unappetizing squelching noise, and my stomach turns a little at the sound. I'm halfway through my bowl when he walks in. Her father. My stomach churns, and I'm worried that I might lose what little breakfast I've managed to get down so far.

"I know it's your last day," he says, gesturing to those of us who are seasonal hands. "I just wanted to tell you all that I think you've done a great job for us this summer. We couldn't have done it without you. Hopefully you've learned a lot this season." He pauses and clears his throat and glances at his foreman, Luis. "I'm not sure if Luis has mentioned it, but I wanted to make sure you all know. One of our permanent employees won't be able to stay on with us after the season, which means we're in need of a new permanent hand. Before I put the word out to our neighbors, I thought I'd see if any of you are interested in sticking around."

For almost a full minute, I'm too stunned to speak. And then I'm afraid that I've missed my chance. Surely someone else has already used the time I've wasted and snatched up the opportunity that I am so desperate for. I look hesitantly around, afraid of what I'll see. Several of the other ranch hands are still eating, their eyes on their bowls, or on the table in front of them. A couple look disinterestedly at our boss.

My hand shoots up. "I'd love the opportunity to stay on full-time, sir."

Our eyes meet, and I'm not sure if he remembers me, and then I'm not sure if that's a bad thing. He regards me silently for a moment, and then he and Luis are conferring quietly. I catch bits and pieces of what they're saying, but my heart is pounding too loudly for me to really make sense of their words.

After what feels like an eternity, he turns to me again and nods. "Great. Luis will take care of all the paperwork and the details." He takes a step toward me, and I lurch awkwardly to my feet. "It'll be great to have you, son."

I mumble something unintelligible and awkward, and then he's gone. It's as if his departure is all the permission my heart needs to soar. I can't help the grin that spreads across my face. I wonder where she is, and if I can find her without anyone noticing I'm gone. Before I can fully form my plan, however, Luis is standing, one booted-foot resting on the long bench that provides seating for half of the table. He's giving everyone their final assignments. There's a lot that needs to be done before the ranch is ready for winter. He finally turns to me.

"You'll do your regular work today, and I'll get with you before everyone else leaves to take care of the paperwork for you to stay permanently. Congratulations. You're going to be a great addition to the ranch."

I smile and nod, accepting the compliment, and then the moment is over. He heads out the door, and I rise and set out across the lawn to the large barn. The first job of the day is to muck out the horse stalls. It's a back-breaking, smelly job, but I don't mind it too much. I like keeping my hands busy. As I work, I think about my future, about our future, and I'm almost unable to believe that we'll actually have one now. There's a small part of my brain that screams at me that nothing's changed. We still come from two totally different worlds, and there's still no way anyone from her world will accept me, especially her father.

But as the clouds shift and the sun peeks out from behind, I can't help feeling that we'll find a way. Somehow we'll find a way to be together. It seems like the hand of fate has guided us. It has to be fate that caused that other worker to suddenly quit, and her dad to walk into the kitchen this morning at the exact moment when I was there. I've never believed in fate before, but today I believe.

I finish cleaning out the stalls and spread fresh hay for the horses. As I'm leaving the stables, I glance up at the ranch house, wondering where she is. I'm too excited to tell her. For a crazy minute I consider sneaking into the house and finding her. But then I realize I have no way of knowing where she is, and there's no reason for me to be anywhere she might be. It would be foolish to risk this chance to stay here before I even have a chance to enjoy it.

It's lunchtime before I have a chance to think about trying to find her again. We've never eaten lunch together before, and once again, I realize I have no idea where she would be. I'm crossing the lawn again, heading toward the kitchen when I see her. I'm late. Everyone else is already eating, so there's no one else outside. She's beaming at me, and I feel my heart do a little flip for joy. She crooks one finger at me, and I don't even hesitate. My stomach is growling, but I don't even feel it anymore.

"What are you doing?" I ask her, jogging a little to close the last few steps between us.

"I had to see you," she says, and she's breathless, as if she's the one who's been running.

Before I can say anything else, she's pulling me behind her. She's leading me behind the barn; back to the same spot where I first made her mine, and it's somehow perfect and symbolic, and amazing. Except it's unnecessary. I want to tell her, but her hands and her lips are everywhere, and somehow I don't have time.

Afterward, she leans her forehead against mine, her breathing shallow. I lift my hand and place it on her chest, above her still-racing heart. I smile as it finally begins to slow. She places a hand on either side of my face and kisses me gently on the lips. Something about the gesture is so sad, that I want to cry. Except I realize with a thrill of anticipation, I don't have to cry. Because this won't be goodbye.

"I have good news," I say, pulling away slightly and doing up the fly on my jeans.

She cocks her head to the side as she re-does the buttons on her blouse and straightens her skirt.

"There's an opening here. Permanently. Luis and your dad asked if I was interested, and I said yes. I'm staying."

I'm practically beaming as I tell her, and I watch her carefully, waiting for the joy I feel to spread across her face. I keep waiting. She stares at me for what feels like a long time, her eyes searching mine.

My stomach does another flip, only this time it's not a happy one, and it leaves me feeling slightly nauseated.

Finally, she smiles. "That's great," she says, but I can tell her heart isn't in it.

I furrow my brow at her, my confusion turning to dread. "No it's not." Suddenly, she won't meet my eyes. "You don't really want me to stay." The truth hits me like a hundred gallons of ice-cold water, and I can't breathe.

She finally looks up, but she's still not looking at me. Instead, she focuses somewhere over my left shoulder. "I never meant for any of this to happen." To her credit, there are tears welling in her eyes, but they just make me angry. I curse under my breath, but we're still standing close enough that I know she hears me. "This was always just supposed to be a summer fling."

"Hey," I say softly, taking her chin in my hand and gently pulling her face down so she has to meet my gaze. "I never meant for this to happen either. But it has, and it's been amazing. I don't want it to end." I smile a little, trying to convince myself that maybe she just needs a little coaxing to see how amazing this could be.

She twists slightly and pulls out of my grasp. She closes her eyes and sighs. "I have a fiancé."

I curse again, louder this time, and pound my fist into the wall, using the momentum to push myself off the wall and away from her.

"Wait," she calls, but even it sounds half-hearted, and I don't bother.

There's not much food left by the time I storm into the nearly empty kitchen. Red clouds my vision as I grab a sandwich and yank the long bench out from under the scrubbed wood table. I ignore the surprised looks from the few scattered farm hands still eating. Most everyone has already finished, so at least I don't have to deal with very many people. My hands are shaking as I bring the sandwich to my mouth. It tastes like sawdust.

After three bites, I give up, tossing it back onto the plate and standing abruptly. I glance at my watch and know that I need to get back to work. I try as hard as I can to push thoughts of her far from my head as I head back to the barn. I wonder briefly if she's still standing behind the barn where I left her, but then I tell myself that I don't care.

The afternoon is busy but somehow drags. I can't seem to find Luis anywhere, and I'm growing more and more anxious to get the hell out of here. I'm trying to simultaneously look for him, and have tunnel vision while I work so I can avoid any chance of seeing her.

But there's a small part of me, a part that I despise, that hopes I'll see her. The sick part of my brain imagines her running toward me, face stained by tears, and leaping into my arms. She whispers apologies into my neck, because she's realized she really does want to be with me, and the whole thing that happened earlier behind the barn was just a big misunderstanding. I imagine myself wrapping my arms around her as the pain of the past few hours slips away like water through my hands. But that doesn't happen. She has a fiancé.

Not seeing her helps firm my resolve. There's a part of me that thinks I should take the job anyway and stay, just to show her that I don't care about her; that she's not the only one who was just in it for a casual summer fling. But then the idea of seeing her each day and not being able to be with her, to touch her, is more than I can take.

I head back to my room to pack the last of my things. I'd mostly packed the night before—before everything changed, and then changed again—so it doesn't take long to throw the last of my things into my duffle bag. I turn back, one hand on the doorknob and survey the room. I tell myself I'm checking to make sure I didn't forget anything, but I know it's really to get one last look at the room where we spent our stolen nights waiting and dreading the daylight. A hundred memories flood my mind. Our late nights spent just talking, the times we crept down to the kitchen to steal food and have our very own midnight picnic, the hours she spent wrapped in my arms. It's all too much. I slam the door a little too hard.

I finally find Luis. He's finishing up some paperwork for some of the other workers who will be leaving. When he sees me he stops.

"I was going to come find you, but I wanted to get these guys squared away and on their way first." He pauses and notices the bag I'm carrying. "I guess you'll want to move into the permanent housing, then."

I take a deep breath, knowing that I can't take the words I'm about to say back. I glance around, and then berate myself. It wouldn't matter even if she was here. What's done is done, and this is almost over.

"Actually, there's been a change of plans. It turns out I can't stay here after all." At least my words aren't a lie. I can't stay here.

He furrows his brow at me and seems to take a moment to be sizing me up. "I see." He scribbles on the clipboard he's holding, and then turns his gaze back to me. "Well, I won't pretend I'm not disappointed to hear that. I was looking forward to having you stay on. You're a hard worker, and you keep to yourself."

An insane laugh bubbles up in my throat, but I stifle it at the last minute before it spills over and gives my duplicity away. I manage a nod and a shrug at the same time.

"Well, if your mind's made up, I guess there's nothing else to say. You'll want to be heading to the train station with these guys, I suppose."

I nod again, relief surging through me at the idea of being away from here. He leaves to go get the paperwork I'll need to get my final pay, and I'm alone. I have nothing left to do but wait. I kick the dusty ground with the toe of my worn boot and try desperately not to think, not to feel. Luis returns and I sign his papers blindly, my mind racing despite my best efforts.

Earlier it seemed like the words I spoke to Luis were what made everything real and absolute, but as I stand there and wait, it all suddenly feels very final. I realize that once I pile onto the train, there's no turning back. I have no way to contact her after today.

I push those thoughts aside. There's no reason to be in touch with her. She's made her choice. I was never anything more than a summertime diversion while her fiancé was away. I grit my teeth at the thought of him. He's probably some rich kid from a neighboring ranch who goes on vacation when it's time for the real work. I'm clenching my fists so hard they're trembling.

Some of the other summer workers have started to gather, and soon Luis is back yelling for everyone to load up. We all pile into the back of a pick-up truck, and soon we're rumbling and bumping down the dirt road toward the train station. I squint through the cloud of dust the truck kicks up to see the ranch house as it grows smaller behind us, the sun just beginning to sink behind its massive gabled roof. I sigh as I brace my hands against the side of the truck, suddenly anxious to put as much space between me and this place as possible.

The drive is a short one. Before the sun has even set all the way, we're pulling into the station parking lot. I place one hand on the side of the truck and leap to the ground, my duffle bag in one hand. Her dad hops down from the passenger side, and Luis climbs out of the driver's seat and begins handing out tickets. In my haste to get away from the ranch, I don't think I paid attention to who was riding with Luis. I shake my head a little and remind myself that I no longer have to be concerned about the old man. His daughter is nothing to me anymore. She has a fiancé.

"Okay, listen up. Here are your tickets. The train leaves in ten minutes. Your contract only covers the first leg of wherever you're headed from here. This train will take you to Santa Fe. After that, you're on your own." Luis clears his throat, and his next words seem less businesslike. "It's been a great season. You've all worked hard. I hope to see you all back next summer—"

His words are cut off by the squeal of tires. A truck comes racing into the parking lot, practically taking the last corner on two wheels. The headlights cut through the gathering twilight, and we all squint. Several people take a step back to get out of the truck's seemingly out of control path. It skids to a stop, not really even in a parking space, and the door opens. For a moment, all I can see are long legs and worn cowboy boots. Then my heart drops.

"Wait!" She's breathless as she sprints toward our loosely gathered group. Every eye is on her, and I don't think my heart is beating anymore.

"Sweetheart, what is it?" her father asks, approaching her. But she ignores him, stepping around him and running straight into my arms. I catch her, even though I tell myself I won't. I catch her because I can't help myself. It's where she belongs. It might kill me later when she reminds me once again that she's not mine, but for now, I catch her and hold on as if my life depends upon it.

She clings to me for a moment before pulling away, her eyes searching my face. They're wet, but she's smiling. I'm too conflicted to move.

"I was lying to myself. Earlier, when I said you were just a summer fling, I was lying. You were never just a fling. I don't want you to leave."

It takes forever for her words to register in my brain. And when they do, I know I should wait. I know I should be cautious. Besides the fact that she broke my heart only hours ago, we're standing among a crowd of spectators, one of whom is her father. But just like always when it comes to her, what I should do, and what I actually do are two very different things.

Grinning, and completely oblivious to our audience, I bring my face to hers and my lips find hers. All is right with the world. In this moment, everything is absolutely perfect.

Eventually we become aware of our surroundings again, but I'm not quite ready to come all the way back down to reality. Except I have to ask her one thing. I push her hair back away from her face and place one hand on either side of her face.

"What about…" I trail off. I don't really want to say it.

She shakes her head. "I called him thirty minutes ago. I didn't end things with him yet. I figure I owe it to him to meet face to face, but it's over. I only want to be with you." She places a hand on each of my forearms. "Nothing in my life makes any sense, except when I'm with you. You're the only thing that feels right anymore."

I study her face for a moment, looking for any sign that she's not being honest, with me, or with herself. I find none. Her eyes are clear and bright, and she's staring at me in earnest. I nod and kiss her forehead, then I move my hands to her shoulders and push her away gently, holding her gaze so she'll understand.

"Okay, but until you do…" I don't need to finish my sentence. She catches my meaning and backs away, nodding.

Behind us, her father clears his throat. I work very hard not to let my hand tremble as I reach for her hand. She squeezes mine and smiles up at me as she leads me closer to her father.

I feel a slight nudge to my other side. Luis raises one eyebrow at me. "Looks like you won't be needing that ticket after all," he says, holding his hand out for the ticket he'd given me only moments before. I take an unsteady breath and shrug at him.

We reach her father. She squares her shoulders, and I wonder if she's trying to get as much height as possible.

"Daddy, we need to talk."

**A/N: So, I've been working on a couple of one-shots lately. This one, and the one I posted yesterday called "Choices". I hope you enjoy them. I'd love to hear what you think. You can also find me on twitter. Thanks for reading! :)**


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